


Don't Leave Without Me

by ReddishRodya



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Other, gosh so many Lavellans, original backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:30:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6945736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReddishRodya/pseuds/ReddishRodya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two scenarios that split up a pair of elven siblings shortly before the events of the Conclave, after which one of them becomes the Inquisitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Without Me

**Author's Note:**

> See I told you I'd post something for DA:I
> 
> Okay, for reference, these two are my favorite DA:I Inquisitors that I have, and for... other reference, I play Only Elf Mages like 90% of the time because that's how I roll. Hero is the original protagonist I started the game with, until I got to saving the mages, everyone seemed to hate me, I was in a bad place, and I got so upset that I started the entire game over with a character who looked as similar to her as possible but was male, just so I could romance Dorian and only have to care about his opinions. The result: in my headcanon, the universe ends up with two Lavellan twins, both mages, and which one gets sent to the Conclave is totally up to chance. 
> 
> I was feeling... feelings about the two of them splitting up because they're insanely close, so I started writing this ages ago without the intent of really putting it anywhere. But now I have a shiny AO3 account, so I can put it here. And you can even look at it if you want!
> 
> Also for reference, I actually have four Lavellans active in the game: Soren, Hero, Ren, and Andruin. Ren is also a mage and is older than Soren and Hero are (they're both about 25-ish, Ren's like 30). I'm not sure if she exists in the same universe as they do, but as far as I'm concerned, Andruin is a regular member of Clan Lavellan in either instance because her existence is compatible with any situation since she's Not A Mage.
> 
> Also also for reference (oh my god Levi stop) Soren romances Dorian, Hero gets with Cullen, Ren I made to date Solas, and Andruin will probably hook up with Sera. Probably. Also Hero is not straight. She's bi, I believe. (I say this because I almost had /her/ date Sera before Sera was all "omg I hate mages" and Hero was kinda like "oh... ye, okay, I'll make an even smarter decision and date the ex-templar instead because that's a cool idea") Ren I'm not sure about. Soren and Andruin are gay af as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> And this is way more information than anyone asked for, so here's a sad fic about twins getting split up.
> 
> There's elvish in this fic because I like it, so, to clear up what they're saying for people who aren't as obsessed with fake languages as me (leaving out the obvious ones like shemlen and lethallan):
> 
> Sathan: Please  
> Ir abelas: I'm sorry  
> Ma halani: Help me  
> Dareth shiral: Safe journey (roughly "goodbye")  
> Ma serannas: Thank you  
> Ma nuvenin: I understand
> 
> (For the amount of time I've spent on the Elvhen language, Soren and Hero's names are glaringly not-Elvhen. But I will tell you that in the elvish language I've been writing for myself, they both are.)

“You don’t have to leave.”

The way he says it nearly breaks her heart. She’s packing a satchel for her journey to the Conclave, a pouch of herbs clutched absently in her hand.

“Soren,” she starts.

“You don’t have to leave,” he repeats, a little more desperately. “Tell the Keeper to send someone else. Or I can go with you. Just— please. _Sathan, lethallan._ Don't go.”

She looks up at him, at the desperation in his yellow-green eyes, the fear of being alone. They have never been separated before. They have always been together. Always. 

She’s putting on a brave face, but she’s terrified as well.

_“Ir abelas.”_ Her voice is softer. She sets down the pouch and turns to him fully, a slender hand on his cheek. “I have to go.”

“Why?” 

He’s going to make her cry, and she’s been trying so hard not to cry. She cards her fingers through his silver hair, short and messy, always mirroring her own, as his full lips mirror hers, his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the pallor of his skin. They have always been eerily identical for fraternal twins. When they were young, before the tattoos on their faces could distinguish them at a glance, the only way to tell the mischievous siblings apart was by the color of their eyes. Hers were violet. His were the green of spring.

“Because it’s important. You know the Keeper almost asked you to go instead.”

“Would you like to tell me you wouldn’t be begging me to stay, if it were me? Or are you too proud for that, Hero?” He is angry now. A rush of regret comes over her, and she steps forward, her arms wrapping around his waist. Hero forgets when her brother grew taller than her. Now he can nearly rest his chin on top of her head. 

“ _Ma halani,_ brother,” she murmurs into his shoulder, and she feels his body go limp in her grasp. “Please. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’ll be back as soon as the Conclave is over. It won’t be long.” Her clever eyes flash up at him and she smiles. “Besides, do you really think the Keeper could spare the two most talented mages in the clan at the same time? What if we’re attacked while I’m away?”

“You know shemlen don’t venture this far into the forest,” he mutters, but his lips twitch in response. Almost a smile. Almost.

“Maybe it won’t be shemlen. Maybe it’ll be a huge bear. Or a dragon. Haven’t you always wanted to fight a dragon?” She’s grinning now, just a bit, trying to play on his sense of humor, that biting wit that always got him in trouble with the elders when he would backtalk them, even when she told him not to.

“There aren’t dragons in this forest. When was the last time a dragon was even seen in the Free Marches? You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Yes, I am. Is it working?” she counters. Her tone is distinctively cheeky. Her lips pull up slyly at one corner, wrinkling the branching teal tattoo beneath her left eye, disrupting its symmetry with its right-hand partner.

Soren lets out a bite of laughter despite himself. “If we found a dragon, it would probably kill us all. And you wouldn’t be here to fight it with me. What would be the point?”

“You can distinguish yourself as a brave warrior—”

“I’m not a warrior, I’m a mage. So are you.”

“Mages can be warriors! Like the _dirth’ena enasalin!”_

“Stop showing off your elvish. Arcane warriors don’t exist anymore.”

“Right, maybe not, but you could be one. If you found the right armor.”

“I hate armor.”

“Now you’re just being petulant.”

“Yes, I am. Is it working?” 

Hero laughs into her brother’s shoulder. She feels his arms around her, fixing her against his chest, and nuzzles her nose into his neck, reaching up to trace the pattern of faint blue loops and curls across the skin of his face, trails she knows by heart. The muscles in his cheeks relax as his smile fades. 

“Don’t leave,” he says. 

“I can’t disobey the Keeper,” she murmurs.

“Lethallan...”

She pulls back slowly. He catches her hand lightly as it leaves his face, kisses her palm, hiding the fear in his face behind her fingers. Hero smiles sadly.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she tells him. “Come on. Wish me _dareth shiral.”_

“Da’len, are you ready?” Keeper Deshanna’s voice rings out from outside the tent. 

“Yes, hahren, just a minute!” Hero calls back, shoving the pouch of herbs into her bag and looking up at Soren, her eyes pleading. “Soren,” she says softly.

He crumbles. “ _Dareth shiral,_ sister.”

_“Ma serannas.”_ Her lips twitch as she shoulders her pack. “On the bright side, if I die, you’ll be the Keeper’s First.” 

He swats at her. “Don’t talk like that!”

She ducks, laughing, but the expression on his face is of genuine distress. She stops, her smile turning apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“If you don’t come back, I’ll never forgive you,” he informs her curtly, before going to pull aside the flap at the front of the tent. 

“You can walk us to the edge of camp... I’m sure the hunters won’t mind,” Hero murmurs. Soren shakes his head.

“No, I... I can’t. It has to be here. I can’t say goodbye twice.”

_“Ma nuvenin,”_ she responds softly. She leans up to kiss his cheek and whisks out of the tent, leaving her brother alone to touch his cheek and remember how her arms felt around him.

Three weeks later, a messenger returns. 

Soren stays in his tent for a long time.

He is made the Keeper’s First.

\---

“Take me with you.” 

He didn’t hear her come in. Sometimes, he wonders how she does that – maneuver through the world in such complete silence, whereas he seems to bumble around like an intoxicated bear in comparison. But he’s always set himself below her. Because she deserves to shine. She always has.

His answer hesitates on his lips, giving her time enough to plant her hands on her hips and demand again, “Take me with you.” Her violet eyes are steely, bright in the dim light of the tent. 

“Trust me,” he says quietly, “I would if I could. You should be the one going, anyway.”

“Deshanna should know better than to divide us,” she snaps. “We’re better together. Take me with you. She can’t stop me.”

“Hero, you’re her First—”

“Fen’Harel take ‘her First’! If I’m so important she would have sent me with you!” The fury in her now, the fire, is exactly the thing he feels he doesn’t have – exactly the thing that makes her the better twin, the stronger twin, the one who should be going, if either of them goes at all. But that would be putting her in too much danger. She is too important, to the clan and to him.

Soren exhales slowly, turning to look at the half-packed satchel sitting on his pallet. “Aren’t you the one who always says we need to follow the Keeper’s instructions?” He was always the backtalker. She was the obedient one, following orders up until the moment when her conscience stirred and announced that something was wrong. Then there would be no end to her backtalk. 

This, it seems, is one such instance. Her conscience has flared and informed her that sending her little brother away, without her, on some insane recon mission to this “Conclave” or whatever it was, is wrong. And she would have everyone know it. She’d always been so good at standing up for what was right.

And he doesn't disagree with her. He thinks the entire concept of this _recon mission_ is a waste of time. Who gives a damn what the shemlen are doing? It isn't their fight. That's why they lived in the woods, outside of society, and the shem and the flat-ears lived in their cities wasting their time with whatever the hell it was they did. He had always been less sympathetic towards outsiders than Hero was, so why is he the one going?

_Because the First can't be spared._ The question answers itself in his head. He looks at the floor.

"Not when she's _wrong!"_ Hero's voice cuts into his thoughts like a carving knife. "You need me there! What if something happens to you? What if they find you out and overreact about the Dalish 'spying' on them?! You could be killed!"

"And _you_ could be killed if you went, which is why you're not," he retorts, wrapping a green scarf around his neck to fit the rest of his ensemble. His armor doesn't look Dalish - it looks more like a mercenary's outfit, but he supposes the Keeper wouldn't want them walking in there in full Dalish regalia, either. That would be dumber than sending the Keeper's First to the Conclave, as if she were something the clan could spare. Case in point.

Hero snarls, pacing the tent in fury. She always seems taller than she is, he reflects. She is, in fact, quite short - neither of them are tall, but he's pushing five foot seven while she barely made it to five foot two. Puberty had been a funny time for them. Not really in a good way.

"Hero... lethallan, _sathan,_ you know I can't change the Keeper's mind. Don't think I haven't tried already. She's decided."

"And who is she to decide my brother's fate?! If we go, we go together! That's how it's always been!" He knows her anger is an extension of her protectiveness. Being the older sister, she has always been his guardian, particularly after their parents died. Especially after their parents died. Hero acts more like his mother than their real mother ever seemed to. Syllana had been a wonderful mother, beautiful and kind, but she didn't have the same fire that Hero had. The same passion or drive. Soren doesn't feel he has that drive, either. 

"Sister." He tries to be firmer this time, steps forward and puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her frantic movement. "I'll be fine on my own. I may not be as strong as you, but I'm strong enough. I can take care of myself." There is a resolve in his words. He doesn't want to be babied by her - it was always something that annoyed him, and she knows it. Her expression gives a little into one of frustrated apology.

_"Ir abelas."_ His arms stretch out to catch her as she leans heavily against him, her fingers curling in his neckerchief like she plans to pull it off. "I just... if anything, anything happens to you, I'll never forgive myself..."

"If something happens," he replies, catching her chin and bringing their eyes together, "it won't be your fault. You need to stay here and protect everyone. You're good at that, you know?"

"But _you're_ the one I want to protect!"

"I know," he says, his voice trying its best to be soothing. "But we both have to start thinking about the bigger picture, you know? You can't just pick now to get selfish. You need to have a track record. Like me." He offers her a lopsided grin. She frowns at him.

"You're not selfish, lethallin."

"I take that personally, sister, I am _very_ selfish," he replies with a note of mock-offense. Then he sobers. "Don't worry so much. I'll be back before you know it. Everything will be fine and we'll see each other again soon."

"Soren!" The foreign voice is Andruin, one of the Dalish hunters who is meant to be escorting him. He sighs, hugging his sister tightly to his chest around the same time that her clinging doubles in strength.

"Take me with you," she says again, this time with her voice muffled by fabric. 

He pulls away gently and picks up his bag, reluctantly grabbing his staff from where it leans in the corner of his tent. "We'll be together again soon. I swear, alright? I promise." 

She insists on walking him to the edge of camp, clearly doing her best not to argue the entire way there. Instead, she reviews almost everything he already knows about basic protection and survival, which is almost worse, but he tolerates it for her sake without too much exasperation. When he is about to leave, she grabs him tightly by the shoulders, looks into his eyes, and says, "You _will_ come home," like she is informing the universe what is going to happen. Her tone is unshakable. 

"I will," he replies, and he does his absolute best to smile, even if his heart is breaking, even if he knows what her face looks like when she's holding back tears. It looks like this.

_"Dareth shiral."_ She pulls away from him, turns her head toward the forest floor, and strides back towards camp.

She does not look back. 

And Soren breaks his promise.


End file.
